Reality
by C.S. Williams
Summary: Three weeks ago, he would have settled just for seeing her alive again.


Title: "Reality"

Author: C.S. Williams

Summary: Three weeks ago, he would have settled just for seeing her again.

Spoilers: "Adrift"/ "Lifeline"; also minor ones for "This Mortal Coil" and "Be All My Sins Remember'd"

Pairings: None, really, although the story focuses on John and Elizabeth

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters; if I did, my fanfic would be actual scripts…

A/N: I don't really know where this came from, but it started from my belief that it would take Elizabeth a looong time to believe she was actually rescued, instead of "reality" being just another Replicator trick. Hope you enjoy; thanks for reading!

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It had been three weeks since they'd found her. Three weeks since they'd learned that reports of her death had been greatly exaggerated. Three weeks since Major Lorne's team had accidentally stumbled across the Asuran laboratory on PX8-4C4. Three weeks since they'd found her unconscious in the stasis field, fighting whatever new personal hell the Replicators had most recently created for her.

Three weeks since she had last looked at any of them with anything but anger or revulsion.

If you had asked John Sheppard a couple years ago if he would ever miss having Elizabeth Weir lying comatose in the infirmary, he would have laughed. Now he found himself almost longing for those first couple days back, when she was in a deep coma, completely unresponsive. At least then he could believe she would be perfectly fine when she woke up, that she would hug him and cry and just be glad to be back.

He visited her every day, and every day he received similar cold, uncaring responses. Silence at best, looks of utter loathing and defiance at worst. In some ways, he knew the defiance was a good sign: her will to fight hadn't been completely broken by the Asurans. It meant she was still Elizabeth Weir, somewhere in there. But he hated the viciousness of those looks, the idea that she could ever hate _him._

Today was one of the bad days. Like always, he couldn't help flinching at her expression when she turned to see who had entered her room in the infirmary. And like always, she didn't miss the flinch, her expression only turning harder.

"I have to admit, you're definitely getting better at mimicking the nuances," she remarked coldly, refusing to take her glare off him.

He sighed tiredly. "Because it's really me, Elizabeth! Somewhere down there you have to know it's me!"

If John had been hoping for even a brief flash of doubt, he would have been disappointed. His pleading tone had no effect, and her glare remained trained on his face.

When she showed no signs of saying anything else, he pulled up a chair and began his usual report. "Not much going on in the city today. McKay was worried about a brief power surge in one of the secondary systems, but he said it's just a glitch and shouldn't affect anything. Oh, and Zelenka has apparently been declared Official Chess Champion of Atlantis. They even made him a certificate and everything, although McKay plans to contest it. He claims their game was rigged, but you know McKay—"

"Just give it up," she interrupted suddenly. He winced at the harshness of her tone, but she continued ruthlessly. "I'll give you credit, Oberoth, you've gotten everything almost exactly right this time, but I know you're not John Sheppard, and I will never accept that this is real!"

"What's it going to take, Elizabeth?" John found himself asking despairingly, even though he knew from past experience emotional appeals only made her retreat further into her belief that he was a Replicator trick. "What would it take to convince you? It's been three weeks, for god's sake!"

She laughed, a cold, unforgiving bark so unlike the Elizabeth he had always known. "Do you really think I don't remember, Oberoth? Or maybe you aren't Oberoth. Who are you? Jalet? Carras? Ia? It doesn't matter. I've lived years in these little hellholes of yours, whoever you are. Three weeks is hardly convincing evidence."

John suddenly felt sick. _Years?_ He'd known the Asurans were capable of making people live out lifetimes in their minds while very little time passed outside, but to actually hear her admit it…

She was watching him, shaking her head. "Yes, very good, whoever you are. Probably exactly how he would react. You really are getting better at this."

John ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I _am_ the real John Sheppard! What will it take to make you believe that?! Please, Elizabeth, I'll do anything!"

Even the desperation in his voice didn't seem to reach her. "There's nothing you can try that you haven't tried a thousand times before. So save us both some time and give up now." Her tone was venomous, the steel he'd heard so many times before directed at diplomats now directed solely at him.

He sighed again, finally standing up and recognizing defeat for yet another day. "Teyla's maternity leave is up tomorrow, so we're back on rotation. I'm going to be gone for a couple days on a mission off-world. I'll visit you again when we're back."

She didn't respond, so he turned to leave. At the door he paused, turning back to say, "I'm going to find a way to fix this, I promise. Bye, 'Lizabeth."

He didn't see her eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the use of the nickname.

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One visit he curiously asked her what she meant by getting everything "almost exactly right." She continued to glare at him for a moment before deciding to humor him, apparently.

"Well, for one, what's this planet we're supposedly on? If this world really is real, it should be a planet I wouldn't expect, shouldn't it?" she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"It's M35-117," he answered, grateful she was finally asking questions, showing interest. Dr. Keller had decided it would be best to give her any information she requested, hoping it would help prove they were not Replicators after all. Replicators would have asked for information from her instead, so Keller had specifically instructed him not to question her. "Do you know where that is?"

She nodded, still looking slightly suspicious. "All right, why am I allowed on Atlantis? Don't my nanites make me a security risk?"

John shook his head. "No, remember Jeannie Miller, McKay's sister? She worked with McKay, and the two of them discovered a way to render your little buggers inert. We thought we'd found out too late, but then it turned out you were alive…"

Her eyes narrowed again. "And you thought I was dead because the planet was destroyed?"

John shook his head. "Not exactly. We got some intel that you'd been killed, so we figured it was safe to destroy the planet. McKay got this idea to make the nanites attract each other, forming a giant Replicator blob."

She looked almost thoughtful for a moment, and John couldn't help hoping maybe she was finally beginning to consider accepting this as reality. Slowly, however, she began to regard him with increasing suspicion again. "And you also expect me to believe Teyla has a child?"

John nodded almost proudly. "Yep, little baby boy. He's doing great. Remember Kanan, the Athosian? He's the kid's dad."

"So Teyla has a son and a lover…" Elizabeth mused softly. "Who took command?"

"Colonel Samantha Carter," John replied, and soon he found himself telling her everything he could possibly remember from her time away from Atlantis. He was so incredibly glad she was finally showing signs of accepting them, accepting _him_.

When he had finally exhausted the list of technological miracles McKay had managed, he couldn't help adding, "You have no idea how much I've missed you, 'Lizabeth."

This time he caught her slight reaction to the name. Taking it as a good sign, he continued. "I would've given anything to get you back. _Anything_. When we heard you'd died, I…oh god, 'Lizabeth, I'm so sorry I left you on that planet. Not a day goes by when I don't blame myself for what happened to you."

Her expression was unreadable now. He opened his mouth to continue, but she stopped him. "Don't."

John reached out for her hand, but she jerked it away abruptly. "Elizabeth—" he tried again, slightly hurt.

"Be quiet!" she said, with considerably more force behind the words. She drew a shaky breath before her eyes turned cold once more. "I have what I need."

Before he could begin to ask her what the hell she meant by that, he found himself in the holding cell of a ship, looking up at the face of Elizabeth Weir as she slowly extracted her hand from his forehead.

"What the hell" was the most he could get out before he felt the needle stick in his arm. As he struggled to hang on to consciousness, trying to hide the betrayal from his eyes, he watched Elizabeth—no, that clearly wasn't his Elizabeth—he watched _her_ walk over to another man, who asked calmly, "He has served his purpose. How would you like us to dispose of his remains?"

He never got to hear her response.

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Less than an hour later, the Atlantis 'gate activated, startling everyone in the control room. As Chuck reached for the radio to call Colonel Carter, a message appeared on the screen beside him: a 'gate address followed by six words.

"_Tell him it wasn't his fault."_


End file.
